Strange… Even with my blurry vision, I can see clearly.
The classroom's creamy white wall is no longer that pure, red has been splattered all over. The warm blood spilling from my mouth and the cuts on my body streams towards the pool on the floor where these are scattered: pieces of flesh, an eyeball, strands of hair, fingers, and an arm.
I am dying.
'...Dying?...Why is this happening?'
Inside this enclosed classroom, I can hear my classmates' shouts repeating—echoing. It varies from one another, a muffled cry, a loud outburst, and a normal weeping. I listen to the sound that came from all of it and it's really painful.
But I know that they are not grieving for me. After all, some of the words I can make out are insults, most of them are curses, all aime at me.
So…who are they crying for I wonder?
Then, in the classroom of chaos, loud and clear, resolute footsteps resound. I manage to move my neck and look at the person approaching me. It is a female classmate, my only friend, Hanashima Miya.
'Is she going to help me...? Then...what is that thing for?'
Hanashima is holding a red machete as her feet tap on my blood on the floor. Tck, tck, the sound is stifled by the liquid, however, it is echoing awfully loud. Before I knew it, all the sounds before has ceased.
I feel all eyes gazing at us. She raises the machete.
'Are you...too...going to hurt me? Are you going...to kill me?'
I open my mouth, and I struggle to speak, yet no words come out.
"...I guess they were right... Kanagawa-kun, you are trash," Hanashima whispers while her tears drip from her face, which has the most terrifying expression of all people that I have seen in my whole life. "I need to kill you."
The only hope I have is gone. No one is going to save me. 'Why!?'
'Why do they have to do this? Why do I have to die? Why did she betray me? Why? Why? Why?'
They always bully me. They do what they want, punching, kicking, and stripping my clothes in class. In all of these situations, I felt like breaking. But because Hanashima is there, she is there that—
I am about to get stabbed.
She is swinging the machete down with bloodshot eyes, aiming at my neck.
...It is very, very slow. Like it is playing frame by frame.
In that instant, my mind recalls everything.
I see...
…
So that's how it is.